The day of Uriah's arrival in Corpus Christi was magnificent in its beauty. It was March and early spring. The stage coach from Brownsville rolled to a stop in front of the St. James Hotel and a tired, worn young man dismounted stiffly, bade the driver a quick goodbye and commenced looking around in a place where he didn't know a soul....Your Humble Correspondent is now a denizen of the Texas "Guff" Coast. No doubt culture shock and climate shock will follow in short order.
-- from Uriah Lott, by J.L. Allhands, a biography of a 19th-century South Texas railroad builder.
On the one hand, my new home town seems to have more "gentlemen's clubs" per square mile than any place else I've ever lived. On the other hand, such establishments are considerably outnumbered by churches of various flavors. When I had occasion to wear a raincoat during a morning rain shower a couple of days ago, I found that some helpful soul had thoughtfully slipped a religious tract into one of the pockets. Presumably this was to make sure that I knew I was welcome in the Bible Belt.
1 comment:
Glad that you dusted off this blog. I look forward to hear how you settle into the new job and locale.
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